June 30, 2009

The Alien Factor (1978) is so archetypal of 70s ultra-low-budget sci-fi/horror that it almost seems like a SCTV parody of the genre. Loaded with awkward blocking and long snatches of blandly delivered expositional dialogue, its strength is in its simple charms: a few good ideas, some amusing characters, and enough money-shot visuals to inspire 100 great screen captures. These folks clearly worked hard on the monsters—one of which has anatomically built-in platform heels—and in general, your entertainment will come from the earnest and colorful visual effects and primitive, in-camera and stop-motion techniques. Make no mistake, The Alien Factor is eyeball-pleasin'; the title sequence alone should be canonized as some kind of holy representation of 70s goodness. If I seem to disparage The Alien Factor, it's only because Dohler's next feature goes straight to the heart of my aesthetic nerve centre.

Everything that The Alien Factor may lack in sophistication is more than made up for by director Don Dohler's next movie, Fiend (aka Deadly Neighbor, 1980), a genuinely creepy, witty and highly original living-dead scenario. In the film, a mysterious alien force, an ethereal red-glowing flying thing, for reasons unknown to us, reanimates (or possesses) a buried corpse, and the combo adds up to one nasty character, an intense sadist named Mr. Longfellow. The trajectory is quite unpredictable, as our zombie pal takes over an empty house, opens a music school (!), and generally irritates his neighbors (whose somewhat banal interactions also provide their own amusing little subplot, especially as the length of the wife's hair keeps changing from scene to scene.) And oh yes, there's Longfellow's murder/sustenance rituals, which also consist of shouting and stabbing at photographs of his victims (and a lot of black candles.)

After Alien Factor, Dohler must have learned a lot about shot framing, suspenseful editing, and economy of dialogue, such that Fiend is elevated from being merely a visually charming, colorful oddity like its predecessor, to being an aggressively weird and disquieting horror tale. I'd also be remiss not to mention that both of these films feature a melodic, burbling synthesizer score (The Alien Factor by Kenneth Walker; Fiend by Paul Woznicki), so well done and so evocative of the time as to give me a super-warm fuzzy. See the My Castle of Quiet blog for a downloadable cinelogue audio excerpt from Fiend.

It's obvious that despite challenges of budget, Dohler and his crew worked hard to try and make good, entertaining movies, and, at least with Fiend, came pretty close to some metaphysical horror fan's ideal. Dohler is something of a legend, especially in his native Baltimore, and now I see why. Many thanks to James for the loan of the two-in-one DVD (released 2005), and for insisting that we give these bent pictures an eyeball.

Another Don Dohler film, Galaxy Invader, can be viewed or downloaded for free here via archive.org. There's also a well-reviewed and relatively new Dohler documentary, released on DVD earlier this year.

June 29, 2009

Here's a little red 45 which I've always gotten a kick out of, not only because, like so many other bits of advertising, it uses America as a way to sell the company name - in this case, Fairbanks Morse Engine, which is still in business today - but also because of the focus on the phrase "free enterprise" which is a particularly unmusical phrase to use in a song.

I first stumbled across Alvaro Peña-Rojas (probably better known as ALVARO - The Chilean with the singing nose, and former collaborator of Joe Strummer in The 101ers) on the Nurse With Wound list and finally managed to get ahold of a CD copy of his mind-blowing 1977 solo debut album Drinkin My Own Sperm. Now some German filmmakers (Hans Kotter, Jochen Hägle and Christian Zschammer) made a documentary about Alvaro, who is living in Konstanz, Germany, and still going strong. Here is the trailer for Full Dedication ALVARO, with English subtitles.

There is no DVD available yet, and all the screenings are taking place in Germany, but I am sure it will make its way around the world eventually. For now, here is one of the tracks from Drinkin My Own Sperm as MP3.

June 28, 2009

In my ongoing mission to torture Beware of the Blog readers with insufferable nineteen seventies kitsch I have sunk to a new low. I would have sunk to this earlier but this did not hit the internet until this week. I thought it could get no worse than The Brady Kids - Wonder Woman crossover. I was wrong. Roy Clark, jonesing for even more stomach-churning hokum than Hee-Haw could offer, called up the chick from One Day at a Time to help host a roast and celebration of Fred Flintstone. Not the real Fred Flintstone but one in a giant foam outfit. Along for the ride, defying all stone-age continuity, are other Hanna-Barbera characters in oversized cloth forms : Jabberjaw, The Banana Splits, Snagglepuss, Hong Kong Phooey, The Hair Bear Bunch and on down the line. The laugh track seems to be enjoying itself immensely (although if you listen closely you might hear a bit of a retch track). This is truly the worst thing I have ever seen - and although I appreciate the absolute awfulness of it all - even I can't bring myself to watch ALL FIVE PARTS that are on YouTube. Oh - one minor detail I forgot about. It is, of course, ON ICE.

June 27, 2009

With 'celebrities' of sorts on the mind, and perhaps muddled somewhat by extreme Heartland-style heat, I'll present the first seven of many Anti-Drug PSAs that I enjoy. There are 29 more of these mainly music-industry celebs that I'll get to later on, as well as the Mel Blanc ones, which I've been saving for some special occasion. Whatever that'll be. These files are from a cassette I made of the lp of radio-only PSAs, one of many interesting albums lying around KZSC in 1982. Upon basking in many of these at a time, one is always impressed at how carefully the 'bad/troublesome' drugs are segregated by the various personalities involved, as well as the ones recorded while apparently high, which kinda dulls the message a bit. I think actually many of these folks sounded loaded whether they were or not. The Peter Yarrow psa in particular is an old favorite. His seething anger and the final death threat are such a treat. Jon Anderson also steps up in this set with a nice little rambling and almost incoherent 'warning'.

There are a number of upside-down tomato planters on the market. The principle is sound: tomatoes are vine plants and a combination of gravity and weight stops their natural inclination to grow up towards the sun. This gives you a hanging arrangement which is excellent for limited space such as balconies and lets the tomatoes get maximum sunlight.

Unfortunately, they're not cheap, but this is where our junk gardening comes into play using only a wooden hatstand scored from Freecycle and an old soda bottle.

June 26, 2009

I almost canceled my plans last night after hearing the news about Michael Jackson. I was strangely saddened by it, like if the neighbor's dog died. It's not that I felt much for the dog, but I was used to it hearing it bark all the time. And I think it's safe to say for about half the people in this country, and a good part around the world, Michael Jackson was one of the first musician names they learned. Like it or not, he was always there. Like Joni Mitchell said, you don't know what you got till it's gone.

So I wanted to go home and watch the same four minutes of news repeated ad nauseam, to let the TV tell me over and over something I couldn't figure out whether or not I cared about. But I didn't want to cancel plans, and somehow going to see a female impersonator pay tribute to Joni Mitchell seemed as good a thing to do as any in my strange, maybe sad I guess, frame of mind.

John Kelly is a female impersonator. That's an important word. He's not a drag queen. He's not a satirist. He is a Joni Mitchell impersonator, and Joni Mitchell is a female. And for two hours last night at the Abrons Arts Center, he embodied her all but effortlessly. He reached up to that soprano with almost as much ease as Joni herself. He played guitar and dulcimer, and even recited banter from her live album, actually stumbling on a word at the same point she did. I wondered if the sold-out audience thought they were laughing at John's jokes or Joni's, and I wondered if it mattered.

Kelly rarely broke character. He did change the lyrics of "Woodstock" to say "By the time we got to Wigstock." He did spin a bit on a joke of Mitchell's about fairies. And he acknowledged that when he heard that Jackson had died, he cried a little. "What an amazing talent Michael Jackson was, what a life he led" he said, returning immediately to the character he hadn't really left. "It made me think about this poem I wrote when I was in 10th grade. It's called 'The Fish Bowl.'" And he proceeded as her to read the verse she wrote in high school.

The Fishbowl is a world reversed
Where fishermen with hooks
That dangle from the bottom up
Reel down their catch without a fight
Pike, pickerel bass, the common fish
Ogle through distorting glass
See only glitter, glamour, gaiety
Fog up the bowl with lusty breath
Lunge towards the bait and miss
And weep for fortunes lost
Envy the goldfish? Why?
His bubbles breaking 'round the rim
While silly fishes faint for him
And say, "Look there!
I think he winked his eye at me."

And I thought of Michael's fishbowl. The one he drowned in. And thought that I was glad I went to see a guy dress up in women's clothes and sing hippie songs. And I thought Michael'd maybe like it, too.

John Kelly will play real good for free at Castle Clinton in Manhattan on Aug. 6. Photo by Fadingad.

Posted the vid clip above for "Stick Stickley" by the musical group Attack Attack! a few days ago (which is now gone from You Tube and replaced by an alternate version), which led to some sleuthery as to what exactly is going on with this band. Whitey Sterling checks in, pointing to an explanation Glorious Noise discovered on (and now has been wiped from) Wikipedia. Even fleeting tremors in cultural development do not get by here, ladies and gentlemen:

Crabcore is a contemporary offshoot from the emocore/screamo sub-genre
of hard rock music.
Unlike almost all other genres and sub-genres of music, crabcore is
defined not by aural motifs, tones, lyrical content, or specific
instrument ensembles; but rather by physical gesticulations and
contortions of the arms and legs of individual band members during live
performances of their music.

Crabcore movesChiefly among the crabcore
musician's repertoire of stylistic gestures is the crabwalk itself,
from which the genre's title is derived. The crabwalk is identified by
the player's extremely low stance, wherein both feet are set apart from
one another as far as possible, while still allowing the player to
maintain at least a 90 degree bend in his knees. While in the crab
stance, the player then purposefully transfers the weight of his upper
body between each leg, achieving a swaying motion intended to have a
hypnotic effect among audience members.
Other moves available to crabcore players include;

The 'Richardson Richardson'.
'Krinking'
The 'Beaver Bounce'
The 'Dirty Hamper'
The 'Pestal Press'

Another, somewhat controversial move has gained a foothold in
crabcore circles recently, which sees the player simply standing in one
spot and running in place. No one understands this move. No one.

The most instantly recognizable signifier of a band within the
crabcore oeuvre is the presence of an Arch Cancerped (literally
translated; 'chief crabwalker'). The Arch Cancerped (or ACP) is an
individual member of the band whose duty it is to set the speed,
intensity, and depth of the crabwalk in a given piece of music. Much
like the conductor of a symphony orchestra. Typically the ACP wears a
black t-shirt and has a dyed-black sideways haircut.

Crabcore bands
For the moment, only the band Attack Attack! is currently playing crabcore, and is at its origin.
But, whereas this style of music has just appeared, we are discovering
that actually, a lot of famous bands had already used or use some
Crabcore moves. The most known must be Metallica, as you can see it in
some live representations. See the references for an example of
Metallica's Crabcore. This version of Crabcore is known as
"proto-Crabcore".

June 25, 2009

In July of 1987, when we were 5 years old, my twin brother and I recorded this karaoke music video version of "Bad." That's me on the right. Clearly we did not know the words... we only knew it was a great song!

Kurt Gottschalk, the esteemed host of WFMU's The Brother Lucy Show, is taking a break from his Thursday morning web-only slot and will instead deliver the goods directly to your MP3 player.The Brother Lucy Podshow premieres today with what might be seen as a desperate bid for popularity. But the Fiery Furnaces aren't just really, really hip. For the first of a summer of free concerts delivered to your computer or MP3 player, The Brother Lucy Podshow with Kurt Gottschalk presents The Fiery Furnaces, recorded live at Socrates Sculpture Park on August 26, 2007.

June 24, 2009

The Free Music Archive, a new collaborative project from WFMU and friends, has almost doubled in size since launching in beta this April. With nearly 10,000 curated mp3s, there's a lot to scope out, which is one reason I've been relatively absent from Beware of the Blog recently. Well, I'm back with this weekly feature that aims to highlight some "hot new added". Of course I'd rather just highlight everything, but you can keep tabs on that yourself by subscribing to the FMA's Recently Added RSS feed. Or follow us on twitter. Anyway, let's see...

Fellow curator KEXP is adding new tracks as I type, and I just had to re-post this, from Portugal's progressive kuduro group Buraka Som Sistema:
Sound Of Kuduro/Luanda-Lisboa (Live at KEXP) (mp3)

Climax Golden Twins stopped by ISSUE Project Room last week, and brought some Sublime Frequencies videos with them to boot. If you're kicking yourself for missing out on the show, at least there's this archive of the CGT set (follow the link for the mp3).

Doncbruital did an excellent write-up of Montreal's Grand Trine, who originally released the warped anthem "Monochromatic Youth" (mp3), on cassette. Read more about them via the FMA here.

Podcaster Macedonia spotlights a world of hip-hop and electronic goodies from California to Budapest. Check out "With Or Without You" (mp3) from a free EP by Opio of Souls of MIschief, and "Funny" (mp3) by Hungarian artist Suhov via the BudaBeats label.

The terrific music search engine Captain Crawl appears to have slipped into the mists again. The Miner has been relying on the Captain's powers of blogservation to discover outstanding recordings posted throughout the ever-expanding universe of full-album sites. This search engine has disappeared before, so there's reason to hope that it will come back. But till then, you should consider trying another efficient search tool called Chewbone. If you're not searching for anything in particular, take advantage of blog aggregators such as Totally Fuzzy and Prog Not Frog's Blogwatch that provide an excellent jumping off point. Or, of course, don't lift a finger and just let the Miner drop another 10 slugs in your tin cup.

UPDATE: It appears that the URL for Captain Crawl has been hijacked or something. Good news comes via the terrific blog Pathway to Unknown Words Captain Crawl can be accessed here: http://85.131.190.173/index.php

June 23, 2009

I love reading Wm. Berger’s blogposts about horror movies. They all sound so awesome, although I don’t know if that’s because they really are great films or if it’s just that Wm. B’s fine, fine aesthetic sensibilities make everything he presents sound better than it is. I can’t watch them to decide for myself, since I can’t get foreign films where I live upstate. When I want to see a horror movie, I have to go see whatever’s playing at the Regal E-Walk 13 over by the Port Authority Bus Terminal.

A couple of weeks ago that was Drag Me to Hell, the new Sam Raimi movie starring the guy who plays the Mac in those Mac/PC TV commercials. I dragged Dr. Colby along to see it with me because I thought, “Well, it’s Sam Raimi, how bad can it be?” Pretty bad, as it turns out. Really bad, actually. In fact, the more I think about it, the more bad I think it was. It was like if Disney made horror movies. It was like watching a 99-minute-long commercial for a new coat. After we saw it, Dr. Colby told me that Rom people are unhappy with the portrayal of Gypsy stereotypes in the move, and I’m not surprised. Heck, I was offended by the portrayal of the Plucky Iowa Farm Girl stereotype. Not to mention the Mysterious Hindu stereotype and the Mexicans in the Back of a Pick-Up stereotype and the Rich Wasp Parents stereotype and, I dunno, the Sacrificial White Goat stereotype. On a scale of zero to $12.50 (the cost of a movie ticket here), I’d give it maybe $2.50.
Bad.

On the other hand, I went to see The Toxic Avenger Musical, and really liked it. And usually I hate musicals. I never understand those radio commercials for big Broadway shows, where they give you a sample of someone screeching (“Ah could be his lahf's com-pan-yun … anywheh but wheh we a-h-h-h”) and then expect you to pay $110 to go hear more. But we sort of got enmeshed into going to the TAM, which was $50 and fun. The play follows the movie pretty faithfully, and the music was written by a guy who plays keyboards with Bon Jovi (okay, but it’s an improvement over Andrew Fucking Lloyd Webber), and the wee little cast of 5 or 6 people can all sing and dance and act—incredible!—and they work SO hard to entertain the audience that eventually they even won over Sluggo. There were plenty of tasteless blind jokes, and various drag characters, and the sets were great … it was all good. So if you have the dough and you like plays and musicals and what-not, I definitely recommend The Toxic Avenger Musical.

Finally, a friend lent us the DVD of the movie Black Sheep, a rather comical “horror movie” about genetically altered flesh-eating zombie sheep in New Zealand, written and directed by Jonathan King. Who? Yeah, I never heard of him. And they didn’t have the money for all sorts of computer CGI stuff, so they used the most genius puppets and models and all, done by Weta Workshops (who did the Lord of the Rings movies). Lots of sheep farting and blood and explosions. It was quite jolly, and Sluggo and I enjoyed it, and it didn’t cost any bloody $12.50 either. Jonathan King wins, and Sam Raimi loses, and that’s all there is to it.

Thanks for reading my blogpost this time, and don’t forget to make up your Summer Fun List before it’s too late.

WFMU and Barbés Records are joining forces to
present two of North America's pre-eminent cumbia bands: Very Be
Careful from LA and Chicha Libre from Brooklyn. They'll be joined by
DJs representing both old school and digital cumbia.

Cumbia became popular in Colombia in the 50s, and its mix of
indigenous and African rhythms quickly spread to the rest of the world.
In the 70s, Peruvians introduced psychedelic electric guitar and
renamed the music Chicha, while Mexican musicians added rock drums and
synth to create Sonidero, and Argentineans introduced the Keytar to
create Cumbia Villera.
In the past 5 years, a worldwide cumbia resurgence has
infiltrated rock, hip-hop and electronic music. From Monterey's
rebajada to Buenos Aires digital cumbia, young musicians are recycling
their grandparents' music and launching a global musical rebellion.

VERY BE CAREFUL (pic L, live in Japan, via myspace) is a homegrown Los Angeles band that plays Colombian
Vallenato music. They keep the music rootsy with the use of a
traditional instrumentation of accordion, guacharaca, bass, caja
vallenata and cow bell. They have the drive, energy and overall
attitude of the best punk bands, which has helped them gain and retain
a faithful audience whose dancing owes more to pogo than it does to
cumbia.
Very Be Careful has performed at clubs and festivals all over the world. They come to NY only once a year, so dont miss them!Listen to Very Be Careful spinning records and chatting live with DJ/Rupture on Mudd Up last year.

CHICHA LIBRE (pic R) play Peruvian chicha music, a style that is loosely
inspired by Colombian accordion- driven cumbia. It incorporates the
distinctive sounds of Andean melodies, some Cuban influence,
psychedelic rock, and the modern sounds of surf guitars, farfisa organs
and wah pedals.
Chicha Libre is a Brooklyn-based Franco-American group that has toured all over the
US, and they're becoming popular in Peru, the birthplace of
Chicha music, where the band has appeared on various magazines and tv
shows. They have been invited to play a series of concerts in Lima this
fall, with legendary Chicha band Los Shapis. Listen to "Six Pieds Sous Terre" (mp3) from ¡Sonido Amazonico! (Barbés Records 2008)

Last month The Paul Green School of Rock hosted two WFMU benefits--one at Asbury Lanes and one at BB King's. Paul runs a network of rock music schools for the after-school junior high and high school crowd and he's been at it successfully for quite a while. Based out of Philly, he's constantly compelled to clue his kids in to the very best music he can dig up. That still doesn't explain why he offered to set up a couple of benefits for the station based on the two ipod-less hours he spent on the Jersey Turnpike tuning in my dumb show. The caveat for bagging the dough was that I had to come up with the songs that the kids should play. I figured that junior high school already sucks so bad that I couldn't make it much worse. So one cautionary night, me and Bingo the Chimp got out the dart board and about 75 songs were selected amid much confusion.

Both shows were inspired successes. Lots of fun and high school hoopla was had. It was like the last scene in Carrie but without all the blood. Asbury Lanes was a total nut-job blast and the spirit of Bracey "Lover's Curse" Everett's spirit was summarily summoned rock and roll style. BB King's brought special guests a-plenty: Bowie/Lennon guitar slinger Earl Slick, Dirtbombs shouter Mick Collins and bad seed Miriam Linna on drums.

Thanks to Jenn and Layney at Asbury Lanes (and Jeff Mulan and Ken Freedman for working the merch). Huge thanks to Irene Trudel for lugging equipment and spearheading the crack recording team of Scott Konzelman, Rob Christiansen and Glenn Luttman for the BB King's show. Extra special thanks to Mark Biondi, Tina Kerekes and especially Paul Green for setting up this whole thing up and also everyone who came out for these events. The biggest accolades of all go to the kids from Chatham, Cherry Hill, Philly, Monmouth County, Princeton, Bergen County, Wilmington, Port Washington and the School of Rock All-Stars: you totally rock and you roll now get back to homeroom because Mr. Downs has a surprise quiz after the frog dissection.

A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of hosting Richmond, VA's Glows in the Dark on WFMU. Representing a nice little active scene in Richmond, Glows exists on an axis where avant jazz and film soundtracks meet. And while that may sound on paper like it could be a mess, in reality the seamlessness between the two styles is pretty astonishing. So when I marveled to guitarist/chief songwriter Scott Burton at the audible effortlessness of moving between driving four-on-the-floor beats to free scree to lounge music to creeping horror film scores, he confessed that the band spends a lot of time working on transitions. That work pays off.

The comparison that Glows brings to mind is a less bludgeoning version of John Zorn's Naked City, yet I can't help but position Glows as part of a tradition of jazz's relationship to the movies, whether it's the appearence of countless big bands in talkies during the Ellington/Basie era, to Miles Davis's soundtrack Ascenseur pour L'Echafaudand Herbie Hancock's The Blow-Up, to the funk jazz of blaxploitation and crime films and beyond. Check out their album, Music to Listen to Glows in the Dark By. Someone should hire this band to score their next film! Thanks to Sean Austin for engineering.

It's summertime. I know it is because the calendar tells me so. I will therefore go on living my life pretending to attend to summertime things. Things that beg for a lack of rain and cold nights. (I have an active imagination.) Part of this imagination includes living other people's lives, vicariously, through books and film.

I received a book from a friend recently that prompted me to organize a list of novels and films that render the illusive artist's life. The American Painter Emma Dialtells the story of an artist who is wasting away as an assistant to a fabulously famous painter - a painter who happens to do none of his own paintings since he took on this talented female assistant. With just a little hint of late 1980's Slaves of New York, the downtown art scene still appears to thrive on cigarettes and liquor. William Faulkner's Mosquitoes will share sordid details with you about the New Orleans Bohemian side of the tracks. A hilarious tale of art colonists gone awry is T. Coragessen Boyle's East is East. An off-kilter Japanese sailor jumps ship along the coast of Georgia in search of the American melting pot, but instead ends up trapped on a small island, home to a fashionably uptight art colony. Hollywood fell in love with the NY art world in the 1990's. Some of the better movies that tell that illusionistic tale: "Basquiat" by Julian Schnabel (who is a much better film maker than painter), and "I Shot Andy Warhol".

"Van Gogh", starring Jacques Dutronc, is a dark and gorgeous film, not a romantic telling of the Van Gogh myth. Speaking of dark, wait until a truly warm day to watch "Girl with a Pearl Earring". You will feel the cold Dutch winter leak out of your TV screen. Kristin at Myopic Books suggests Siri Hustvedt's What I Loved. "An
artist's son is misanthropic and turns into a sort of strange violent
counter culture figure...very much a page turner and you
should read it!" I also enjoyed The Enchantment of Lily Dahl, Hustvedt's second book. One of the narrative threads in this odd mystery focuses on a NY painter, transplanted for the summer to a small town, painting misfits' portraits.Many of Steven Millhauser's stories deal with artists
who fall into the worlds they create, or try hard to create worlds they
can control. In William Gibson's Mona Lisa Overdrive one of the characters is built around a loner artist who creates Joseph Cornell-like assemblages that a
mysterious collector buys, supposedly a reference to Mark Pauline of Survival Research Lab.

That's a stay-cation that never gets written about: pretend you're at an art colony! Get someone to make your meals for you, don't do your laundry, and lounge under a giant tree with several good books about artists and their fabled exploits. Just make sure the grass is dry before you move in.

June 22, 2009

Face it: only douchebags still believe the typical music soundtracks of 1970's porn films are "classic." Although, since only a douchebag would watch enough actual pornography to allow himself (or herself) to eventually arrive at such a conclusion, perhaps that particular revelation is a moot one. Nevertheless, an example: I was recently watching yet another John Holmes "classic" mid-70's porn film (not for any unseemly reason. Let's just say I was...masturbating) and as soon as the screeching, thin, artless fake-funk soundtrack began to mask the fake shrieks and moans, I had to wince. It was like an un-orgasm for my ears. How did the myth that this abominable 70's music represents some sort of cultural climax come to be? Why is it still perpetuated? Was 60's porn music any good? Is 80's porn music any better? 90's porn music? 00's porn music? Do porn movies of the 00's even have music anymore? Unsatisfied, I decided to ask the opinion of notorious guerrilla pornographer and author Sam Benjamin, who possesses a vast, throbbing brain filled with the where/when/who/why of most porn films from the second half of the 20th century, and on, and on. He's has suffered hard trench experience as an actual pornographer, pro-porn film cameraman, agency talent-scout and general entrepreneur in the brightly colored dark void that was and is the Los Angeles pornography underworld. Sam recently wrote a book about his adventures, called Confessions of an Ivy League Pornographer. According to Sam, 80's porn video music is far superior to 70's porn film music, even though it's actually quite worse. It all has to do with context. Read on...and stick around to the end, he's brought a few audio clips for your enjoyment.